Chapter 35

Chapter 35

My teeth are in perfect condition.

Okay, this instantly sounds defensive. Let me rephrase.

All of me is in technically perfect condition, and not just because I am a cat. Theres actually a lot of different reasons keeping my biological form at peak performance, some dumber than others.

The immortality thing, for example, is a pretty dumb one. I dont want to talk about that one.

But past that, the station still has scores of different medical devices from an equal number of different civilizations, all with different priorities. Wherever the viviifcation pods come from, theyre a pretty good option when time isnt an issue and something is either growing or dying inside of me that shouldnt be. When I somehow manage to get sick on a station thats mostly a closed system, theres two different working and verified protein folders for creating custom medication. And if that doesnt work, the cyclotherapy bay can perform a functional refresh on my whole system. And injuries that dont heal naturally, or that I need to attend to quickly, can always be taken care of by the ultrasound reconstructor, the flesh shaper, the regrowth tank, or the growth enhancer. And Ive got a similar number of options for broken bones or whatever.

The real thing to note here is that most of these things have side effects. But theyre all *positive* ones. The vivification pod especially, for all that it can take me out of commission for a month or five, is kind of insane. While Im walking off its effects for the week or two of mandatory cooldown time, I sleep better, and basically never feel muscle soreness. Its no wonder some humans used to spend whole centuries of their lives in these. I bet they even make food taste better, but I couldnt prove that.

The thing is, all this stuff is more than enough to deal with any problems that crop up with my body, mostly. Sometimes. Usually. And so, for a very generous definition of the term, I am *perfect*. I am exactly as healthy as the healthiest cat could be.

Dental hygiene is a joke to me. The cleaner nanos take care of it, and theyre not even classified as a medical device. When I actually needed to regrow teeth, for reasons that I will not be explaining on the grounds that they make me look bad, even *there* I have options. My biggest problem, if you can even call it that, is that my teeth dont really get sharpened. Which I dont care about.

Or at least, I *thought* I didnt care about it. This is foreshadowing.

Its a thirty second wait, at most. Ennos voice comes through a camera drone that does the little loop motion theyve started using to express exasperation. You have literally waited centuries, if youre right about your age. You can wait a minute.

If?! I cry out indignantly. Ive been keeping

Im joking, Lily. Ive seen some of the station records. Ennos mollifies me. As impossible as they are.

I huff, shifting side to side in my chair as I wait in the galley, having an entirely too distracting conversation. You are a free mind running on a digital substrate, moving a hundred different bodies like theyre paws, and as long as theres a working solar panel somewhere, youll live *way* longer than I have. I say. Why am I impossible and you arent? Sol system generates impossible things. Its our job.

Thats different. *I* am a constantly improving, self-maintaining intelligence. You are a cat.

Yeah, Im a great cat! I rebut. Top four percent of cats.

That seems statistically likely. Ennos compliments me. Or at least, I choose to interpret it that way.

Ennos is technically correct about themself, which is a form of correct that I dont think Im very fond of. The thing is, their statement is one that applies to basically every sophont I know.

Improving? Were all improving. The ability to learn things, by its nature, invites improvement. Self-maintaining? Everyone Ive met, has been, in some way, invested in their own survival. I dont think these are the unique traits that Ennos thinks they are.

There is, I suddenly realize, a surprisingly diverse list of types of mind on the station.

Theres me, to start with. Organic, but heavily modified, in two different ways. My mind doesnt decay, but because of my lack of any kind of useful controllable sorting algorithm, my thoughts can get mildly scattered. I offset this flaw with the ability to touch things with my paws.

Glitter is a lot like Ennos. Same class, different order, if we wanna talk taxonomically. Where Ennos thinks of themselves as entirely digital, and occasionally using drones as tools, Glitter *is* her body. Shes fine being upgraded or repaired, even the addition of new processor cores is okay with her. Augments to her total ability to think dont change the persona shes emulating. But shes so closely linked to that satellite form that I know shed not want to live outside of it. I asked once. Its not just her home, its who she is, as close to her as my own fur is to me.

Joms different than both of them. Though probably closer to Glitter. He was built to be a weapon, but unlike Glitter, he was also built to be disposable, and so his operating budget went into weaponry and not intelligence. That doesnt mean he cant think, but a lot of the hardware he thinks with is highly specialized. Tactical formations, velocity calculations, intercept paths, in those fields Jom is smarter than all of us. And he has the brainpower to actually apply them in the field. But he wasnt built to be curious, or happy. Hes a mind thats very task-oriented, only running a barebones persona, because he just doesnt care to do more. I could *make* him more, but he doesnt want that. And Im not going to force someone to be something theyre not comfortable with. Its the worst invasion possible.

Now, though?

With Ennos and Glitters help, I had successfully harvested my first pea crop. Ennos called them beans, Ennos was wrong, and doesnt know what beans are. I am *not sure* why Ennos doesnt know what beans are, but thats a problem for tomorrow Lily. One pea plant, eight long, plump pods. More were on the way. More of *everything* was on the way.

This was when I realized that my teeth were actually kind of dull, for cat teeth. And I actually sort of lack the jaw strength and crushing molars of many species.

Cats, sadly, are obligate carnivores. Something I *absolutely* plan to fix about myself and my stupid perfect form in the near future.

I was so close. I could have just gnawed on the snow peas forever. It wasnt like they lacked flavor or something. Even the small taste as I tried to crunch through something resistant for the first time with my ineffective teeth was practically enough to make me cry. But I want *food*, dammit! And so, we presented them to the galley, and I settled in to wait.

And now, I am practically vibrating as a slot opens and a small flat bowl of steaming green soup is gently settled onto my table.

Eight peas are not enough to really make soup with. But the galley had done its best with the tools it had. Im pretty sure that it used ration paste as a thickening agent, but I would never know, because ration tasted like nothing.

From all my studies of the records of civilization, Im more or less aware that water, peas, and a thickener are not the correct ingredients for actual soup. But in that moment, I didnt *care*.

With a meowed thank you to the galley, I bent down and lapped up a single taste.

It was *green*. Earthy, a little sweet, a little savory. I didnt have a lot of memories of being outside, but from one sample of the tiny dish, I was transported back to the smells and emotions of standing in one of the stations hydroponics bays before their untimely loss.

Food. For the first time in centuries, food that wasnt a ration.

And even though I knew my biology didnt really let me enjoy it to the highest potential, it was still the greatest thing I had ever tasted in my life. This thin pea soup was, at the moment, the pinnacle of culinary bliss.

Then the collision alarm started sounding, because thats just how my life is.

My soup I briefly considered just letting whatever was going to hit the station in the next five minutes do its thing. Odds were good it wouldnt interrupt my meal; there was a *lot* of armor plating between me and whatever was going to hit us.

It was the galley that made my choice for me. The flat dish retracting back into the tables depositing slot, steadily so as not to spill any of the precious soup inside. A small ding sounds, and a projected hologram of an orange dial with the word warming! underneath appears.

I make the decision to add the galley to my list of disparate minds as I take off toward the panopticon to check on whats about to crash into us. Their entry will also be going under the friends column.

And then I tumble to the side as a loud boom echoes from somewhere far below me, grav plates momentarily misaligning.

I pick myself up, waiting to hear the telltale sounds of something making hostile noises. This happens sometimes. Ennos and Glitter are pinging me repeatedly, Jom is asking for authorization to deploy, and I hear the dog howling from a deck away.

Theyre all overreacting. Theres no sounds of hostile drones, self-replicating mining units, or the power flickers that comes along with either plasmaphages or some weird digital issue like that time I accidentally ran into an isolation cell.

I keep moving. If Im quick about this, I can figure out what the problem is, knock it out of local space, maybe throw a bit of it in the material foundry to restock our supplies, and then get back to my soup.

Man, the galley is nice. Keeping my soup hot for me.

This day is going great.